


How Slappy did the three good deeds

by Niky_94



Category: Goosebumps - All Media Types
Genre: Deeds, Dummy - Freeform, Good, Goosebumps - Freeform, Nightmare, Slappy - Freeform, Slappy'sNightmare, SlappyTheDummy, Sorcer, Three - Freeform, Wally - Freeform, curse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 05:43:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10984566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niky_94/pseuds/Niky_94
Summary: 'Slappy's Nightmare' ends leaving us with a question: what happened to Slappy, after Jimmy O'James cursed him at the end of the book?Did he managed to lift the curse placed upon his head and save his life, or did he fell asleep forever?This is the story you're looking for, if like me, you've always wondered what happened after the last chapter...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING:
> 
> May contain violence and gore, but if you've read Goosebumps books growing up, you know what you're in for, so go ahead! ;)

CHAPTER 1:

 

“Nooo! This can’t be happening! This is a nightmare – a terrible nightmare!” Slappy screamed, bringing his wooden fists to his face.  
Jimmy O’James stared at him. A cold expression formed on his face as he looked at the dummy, silent.  
“No, Slappy. This is not nightmare.” he said. “You are too evil and you’ve hurt too many people. Including me. Now, you’ll have to make up for it, if you want to live.”  
“OF COURSE I want to live!” Slappy shrieked in his high-pitched voice.  
The ventriloquist lowered his eyes on the yellowed papers he was holding in his hands. “You have a week to do three good deeds. Succeed, and you will live. Fail, and you’ll fall asleep – and never wake up.”  
The dummy let himself fall on the floor. “I can’t believe this.” he groaned. “How can you do this to me?”  
Jimmy shook his head, without a word.  
Slappy opened his red—painted lips again. “What do you think you’re doing without me? You have nothing, Jimmy.” he said. He stared into the ventriloquist’s eyes. “I am the star of the show. Without me, you’re nothing but a washed-up loser.” he rasped. He got on his feet and narrowed his eyes at him. “You have nothing, Jimmy. Face it – you need me!”  
The man shrugged. “All I need is a dummy. And I happen to have one.” he declared, looking at the wooden trunk the deliveryman had brought him moments ago. It contained a ventriloquist dummy. He had brown hair, painted on his wooden head. The red lips were curved up into a sinister smile. His eyes were blue, and cold as ice.   
He was Slappy’s identical twin.  
“No one will be able to tell the difference.” Jimmy said.  
Slappy started. “You can’t use that piece of junk in your act, Jimmy!” he said. “It’s me the audience loves – ME, not Wally!”  
“Wally?” echoed Jimmy, rising an eyebrow.  
The dummy nodded his wooden head and gestured nervously at his twin. “That’s his name. Or at least it was in my dream.”  
The man scratched his head, puzzled. “Thanks for the clarification.” he said. “Now I know how to call my new co-star.”  
And with these words, he moved towards Slappy, reaching his arms out.  
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” the dummy asked in his croaky voice. He jumped back, withdrawing from the ventriloquist.  
Jimmy shook his head. “I can’t keep you anymore, Slappy.” he said coldly. He was willing to give the dummy a chance to redeem himself and live. But as far as possible from him.  
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Slappy asked, shocked.  
The ventriloquist nodded. “I think it’s time we say goodbye, Slappy.” He said, coming closer. “Goodbye.”  
As in his dream, Slappy felt anger lighting up in his chest like fire. A fire that could not be controlled.  
With a bolt, he dived towards the trunk at the other side of the room and kicked it hard with one of his heavy wooden shoes.  
Inside the trunk, Wally jerked up as if he was trying to jump out from the wooden box. His thin disarticulated arms suffered the recoil and sprawled back and forth. The trunk slid on the floor and crashed against the green wall of the dressing room.  
Driven by a blind rage, Slappy ran to the dressing table and slid his arms for its whole length, shoving everything that rested on it on the floor. The greasepaint containers fell on the floor, opening. The white powder spread all over, covering the pavement. The glass bottles crashed on the floor, breaking.   
With a roar, the dummy punched the mirror, smashing it into pieces. The big pointed splinters rained on the floor with a sinister clinking.  
Jimmy O’James screamed in terror. “Slappy – STOP!”  
He reached for the dummy and stretched his arms out, ready to grab him.  
Slappy turned to him. His blue eyes widened, and his mouth opened in another cry of rage.  
Then he rose his wooden fist… and punched the ventriloquist in his stomach.


	2. CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 2:

 

Jimmy O’James fell on his knees. He wrapped his arms around his stomach, suddenly breathless. A moan escaped his lips.  
He rose his eyes on the dummy and panicked, realizing he was about to hit him again. He closed his eyes and moved aside, managing to avoid a hard kick.  
Slappy lost his balance and fell in his back. His wooden head hid the dressing room floor with a hard – THUD!  
Before he could react, the ventriloquist jumped him. He grabbed the dummy with both hands, trying to immobilize him.  
“Get your filthy paws off me, idiot!” Slappy shouted, struggling and waving his fists, trying to regain his freedom.  
But Jimmy had desperation on his side. He knew he was fighting for his life.  
If I give up, he’s gonna kill me. Jimmy thought. No, he couldn’t lose.  
He dragged the screaming dummy across the dressing roman and quickly reached the wooden trunk in which the other dummy laid. He held onto Slappy with one hand, and picked Wally up, setting him down on the floor.  
Slappy noticed Jimmy was holding him with just one hand, and struggled with more force. “Let go of me!” he growled.  
He sprang his head forward, opening and closing his wooden jaw repeatedly, trying to bite the ventriloquist.  
But Jimmy didn’t let her go. He gritted his teeth and seized the dummy again with both hands. Panting, he finally managed to put him into the trunk.  
As soon as the ventriloquist let him go, Slappy tried to jump out of the box.  
But Jimmy stopped him, pushing him back.   
The ventriloquist closed the lid and clicked the locks. Slappy was trapped.  
Exhausted, Jimmy sat on the floor, resting his back against the wooden trunk. His chest moved up and down as he tried to catch a breath. His heart was beating at a crazy pace. He could feel his own blood pumping in his veins. Big drops of sweats slid down his forehead, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand. He didn’t have time to recovery, though.  
Slappy, inside his prison, had no intention to give up. He resumed kicking and slamming his fists against the wooden walls, struggling like mad.  
“Let me out!” he shouted. His voice may have been muffled by the box, but still had the power to sent a shiver down the ventriloquist’s spine. The dummy carried on his fight, tireless and the trunk rattled and swung fearfully.  
Jimmy jumped back, scared.  
“LET ME OUT!” the dummy demanded again. “You’re gonna pay for this, do you hear me? Just wait until I get out of here –!”  
The dummy’s furious yelling was interrupted by a knocking on the door.  
Jimmy, still exhausted after the fight, stood up slowly. His legs were trembling like a pile of jelly. It took him a few moments to get a firm footing again. He reached the door and opened it.  
There – with an embarrassed look on his face – stood a man in a brown uniform. It was the same man that had delivered him the trunk containing the wooden dummy.  
Jimmy stared at him, puzzled. “Huh. Hello.” he said. “What can I do for you?”  
“Good morning, Mr. O’James.” The deliveryman greeted timidly. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’ve heard screaming coming from your dressing room. So I thought I’d check it out and make sure everything was all right…”  
“S-Screaming?” Jimmy said nervously. He shot a look at the trunk resting against the wall at the other side of the room, which was now perfectly steady. Apparently, Slappy had decided to go limp.  
A cold shiver ran down the ventriloquist’s spine. “It’s nothing.” he said, turning to the deliveryman. “I was just trying out my new act. An artist has to freshen up his show once in a while.” he explained, trying to sound reasonable.  
The deliveryman smiled. “From what I hear, your show is anything but boring, Mr. O’James.”  
You have no idea. Jimmy thought, shivering again. Despite that, he managed a smile. “Thank you.”  
The man nodded. “Well… Since everything is fine, I see no reason to bother you any further.” he tipped the peak of the brown hat he was wearing, and moved to leave. “Good day, Mr. O’James.”  
Jimmy’s eyes quickly shifted from the man to the wooden trunk. It was now or never.  
“WAIT!”  
The deliveryman turned around. “Yes?”  
Jimmy O’James crossed the room and picked up the heavy box. In a moment, he was standing in front of the man again. “I need this box to be delivered – as soon as possible.” he announced.  
The man observed the trunk and blinked a few times, confused. “I don’t understand.” he said. “It just came for you…”  
The ventriloquist nodded. “I know but… I don’t really need what’s inside.” he nervously replied. “Could you bring it to the nearest dump and get rid of it, please?”  
The deliveryman looked puzzled. “Well, it’s not exactly my job.” he said. “And I have a very busy schedule.”  
“I can pay you.” Jimmy insisted. He dived his hand into his jeans’ pocket and retrieved his wallet. Then he placed twenty dollars in the man’s hand. “Please?”  
The deliveryman stared at the banknote, unsure of what to do. He really had a lot of work to do that day. On the other hand, it was a lot of money for such a job. It was indeed tempting.  
“All right.” he finally agreed. “I’ll do it.”  
An extremely relieved expression appeared on the ventriloquist’s face. “Thank you.” He immediately picked up the wooden box and placed it into the man’s arms. “Thank you so much.”  
“No problem, Mr. O’James.” The deliveryman replied, taking the trunk. “Have a nice day.” And he took his leave.  
“You too!” Jimmy called after him. He stood at the door and observed the man as he walked down the dark corridor of the theatre. The faster he got, he more easy become for Jimmy to breath. The knot in his stomach slowly started to disappear and his heart beat slowed down.  
Finally, the deliveryman disappeared in the distance, taking Slappy away from the theatre – and out of his life.  
Jimmy leaned against the door jamb. He closed his eyes, and tried to calm down. Once he was able to stop trembling, he turned around and looked inside the dressing room. What a mess!  
The white powder of the greasepaint covered the floor, making it look like a little mountain scenery. The scattered pieces of the mirror laid on the pavement, reflecting the lights of the lamp with a sinister gleam. Jimmy blinked a couple of times, but the sight before his eyes didn’t change. He kneeled on the floor and carefully started to gather the pieces of glass. His hands were trembling visibly.   
Slappy was completely out of control, the ventriloquist though, still deeply shocked. He couldn’t get the dummy’s grinning face out of his mind. A face he knew would have infested his nightmares for a very long time.  
“Ah!” he suddenly gasped. He had cut his finger.  
Jimmy watched the small trickle of blood running down his hand, absentminded.   
I hope that man gets rid of the trunk as soon as possible, he thought. I hope he gets rid of Slappy, once and for all. Before he can destroy his life – as he destroyed mine.


	3. CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 3

 

The deliveryman exited the Little Theatre, still carrying the wooden trunk.  
He reached the white wagon parked near the entrance and opened the door. He sat at the driver’s seat and set the box on the nearby seat. He secured it with the seatbelt to make sure it wouldn’t slide off the seat on the way. Then he fastened his own seatbelt and started the engine. He turned the radio on and headed for the city dump.  
He had almost reached it, when he caught a glimpse of his watch.  
I’m gonna be late for my other deliveries, the man thought to himself, I know I shouldn’t have taken this job.  
But then again, twenty dollars was quite a high tip for such a simple job.  
He froze. Too high.  
The dumpster was closer now. Cold sweat started to form on the man’s forehead. What was he really carrying in his car? His mind started racing faster and faster. He suddenly remembered all the thrillers he had read, and he found himself even more worried. What if he had been paid to dispose of the evidence of some sort of crime?  
The deliveryman’s heartbeat speeded up. He was getting closer and closer to the damp. He would have been there any moment now.  
“What do I do now?” he asked put loud, as if he needed to hear his own voice to think straight. Then, his eyes lit up.   
He knew what he had to do.  
After making sure nobody was around, he stopped the car by the side of the road. Then, he turned to the seat next to his.  
The wooden trunk was still there, and seemed to stare back at him. Waiting. Silently asked to be opened.  
“Maybe it’s nothing.” the man said again, trying to reassure himself. “I bet it’s just a bounce of books. Or maybe old clothes.”  
He unfastened his seatbelt, and slid on his seat, getting closer to the trunk.  
“Perhaps I should have a look anyway.” he decided. “Just to be sure.”  
He slid a bit closer. His hands were cold and sweated.  
He worked the small locks on the front of the trunk, cringing as they clicked open.  
The man took a deep breath…and opened the lid.


End file.
